


Male Reader X Female Michael Myers 2

by CampGreen



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 13:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: A direct sequel to my first Female Michael Myers story. I wasn't expecting to make this, especially this soon, but what do you know. Halloween and Michael Myers by Dimension Films.





	1. Ambulance Ride

A feverish, muffled siren howls from outside the oversized trunk you've been stuffed into. Your transport ambulance flies through downtown Livingston County, inbound to Haddonfield Memorial. Michelle Myers, the escaped lunatic who's hospitalized you, might be long gone but you can still feel those two black, soulless eyes trained on you, you just can't tell where from. A couple of paramedics loom over your gurney. One fiddles with the encircling medical equipment whilst the other tends to you like a nurse.

 _"It's okay, honey, the nightmare is over,"_ she comforts as she cuts you out of your raggedy, blood-stained clothes and makes you nigh-spotless from a bath with a warm rag, leaving behind only the countless scars you've been torn up with.

 _"W-What happened?"_ you question. You have a vague idea, a hazy impression of rape and a ghostly face, but the trauma itself has filled up your mind so much it leaves little room for details. 

_"Someone broke into the house you were babysitting at, and you were really roughed up in the scuffle."_

_"Where is she?"_ you ask as you're slipped into a mint-colored patient's gown.

_"She? Well, the home invader is long gone. I'm sorry. We'll catch them though, don't you worry! But for now, we gotta get you nice and healthy. I'm sure you're in terrible pain. Let's start with a dose of morphine."_

She feeds your IV some painkillers, weeding out all of the trauma from this night that once poisoned your nervous system. 

_"There, feel better n-"_

The EMT's head is yanked back by her hair and a blade is smoothly run through her throat, spewing a jet of blood out onto you like a fire hydrant being cracked open. Nearly blinded by your new veil of scarlet, you tumble off the stretcher in a shock, which brings down a supply cart with you and rips the IV out of your veins, though the morphine numbs the pain down to a dull buzz in your wrist. The medic's fresh cadaver nearly topples down onto you, and behind her stands her coworker, armed with a bloody lancet. Her scalp is censored by a paramedic's cap, and the lower half of her face by a surgeon's mask. All that remains is the in-between: her eyes. Blood trickles from one of the sockets, and her irises are solid black. As black as the eye-holes of...oh no. You desperately crawl backwards in the looming shadow of Michelle Myers, disguised as an EMT. Myers wasn't stalking the ambulance from afar, she was _inside_ the ambulance the whole time! 

She conceals your plea for help from the drivers up front with a gag of gauze around your mouth, then around your eyes, then around your wrists, leaving you blind, mute, and restrained. You try to struggle underneath all of your induced disabilities but she's tied all three bandages tight enough to damn near cut your circulation off. The paramedic assured the nightmare was over. But it's only just begun. Myers plops her ass-cheeks down on your face and lets them swallow your head. She lifts up your gown and takes a firm hold of your scrotum with one hand before spanking it with the other. Your sack goes tomato red and swells up to the size of a grapefruit in seconds, though fortunately the pain is limited. Rest the other paramedic's soul but thank God she at least pumped you with analgesics before falling victim to Myers' blade. 

Your flaccid penis lounges atop your now distended testes like they're a bean bag chair. Myers frees her breasts from her uniform and puppets them to throttle your penis as it reluctantly congeals at the touch of her tits. Powerful moans, from both terror and pleasure, erupt from underneath your gag only to be immediately silenced by both it, and the press of Myers' asscrack against your face. Apparently bigger balls means bigger cumshots, because the hug of Michelle's cleavage is able to eventually squeeze out about eight massive fountains of semen all the way from your inflated testicles to coat her chest with. The awful ache in your bloated balls, the heavenly pleasure of a world-record orgasm, and the numbing dullness of the morphine flowing through your veins all mixed together in one crazy stew of sensations unleashes an abstract tenderness upon your body, like a powerful but vaguely ominous high. 

As the huge cloak of cum messily sops off her tits, the ambulance takes a hard turn in its nearing of the hospital, flinging the mess of medical supplies at you like a volley of darts. One of them is a scalpel, but it thankfully gets caught up on your wrists and slices you out of your gauze-handcuffs. You catch the scalpel and shave Myers' cheek with it, further butchering her face. She staggers backwards and is thrown against one of the walls thanks to another hard turn, so a large bottle of disinfectant with a loose cap spills out onto her from the cabinets, dousing her in rubbing alcohol. Enraged albeit as silent as ever, she seizes a clump of your hair and flings you all the way from the back of the ambulance to the front, in between the drivers so they're finally aware of the chaos erupting from behind them. Not even allowing them a second to react, Myers strikes, slashing her knife at you like she's clearing the verdure of a jungle. The life-ending lunges and jabs get caught up on the EMTs, cutting through their uniforms and showering you in their blood. The driver's corpse goes limp on the wheel, swerving the ambulance straight off the road a millisecond before Myers can land her finishing blow on you. 

The van smashes into a lamppost and tumbles down the hill leading to the hospital. You're violently thrashed around the insides of the white and red cube, medical equipment almost chopping you up like the blades of a blender. When the ambulance finally comes to a halt at the foot of the medical center, your eyelids flutter alongside your consciousness. You almost let yourself retreat from the hellish chaos into a coma, but you still see a lumbering shadow coming for you. Myers was flung from the ambulance in the crash, but she's not letting that stop her. You can't pass out. If you pass out, she wins. You take the craziest gambit of your life by stabbing the first syringe your fingertips can find in the mess of shattered vials and turned over storage bins. It's either enough adrenaline to help you escape, or enough morphine to overdose and claim you before Myers can. It's the forme- **_HOLY SHIT ___**.

A supernova of energy is injected into your bloodstream, ripping you to your feet right before Michelle has you vulnerable. You quickly scurry into the front seat like a rat and crawl over the EMTs' corpses out of the shattered window. This is the forth broken window you've been through tonight. You make a b-line for the towering hospital that scrapes the pitch-black sky with a huge, glowing red cross.


	2. Haddonfield Hospital

It's terribly uncomfortable to run with a grapefruit-sized scrotum dangling in between your legs, (what a great sentence to start the chapter with) though by now the swelling is starting to go down. You bust through the first door you see, which leads to the hospital's storage basement. You barricade the door behind you with one of the shelves, giving yourself a chance to catch your breath. Your hand is held through the underground jungle of concrete and metal by nothing more than a few dying fluorescent lights.

The analgesics numb plenty, you are walking with a couple of broken legs and off the heels of a crash after all, but you're still frozen to the bone by the 65° F hospital and the medical gown you've been forced into. Might as well be wearing nothing but a rag. You finally reach the end of the warehouse and enter the ER. Shit, in here it's even darker. Now all that illuminates the network of blackness is the red glow of a few exit signs. One of your soles is bitten by a warm puddle coursing through the cracks of the tiles like a river. You dip your fingers in it and get a whiff of what smells a bit like steel. You blindly feel the floor until you find a pack of cigarettes sopping with the same liquid, which leads you on the trail to a lighter. You flick the little box of metal to life and immediately regret it. The orange of the lighter's glow reveals a massacre at your blood-soaked feet. Men and women in labcoats, nurse uniforms, and patient gowns, with their veins and organs torn out by the razor sharp tip of a kitchen knife. 

_"H-H-Help...me..."_ a terrible, rattling gurgle begs from beyond the surrounding darkness. You shine your lighter in the direction and it's a nurse, slumped up against the wall and with much of her belly slit open. You rush over to the poor dying creature and catch her hand as she weakly reaches out to you.

 _"Wh-Who did this?"_ you poignantly beg as you squeeze her hand with a shaky grasp. You know the answer is as clear as day, you just desperately hope it's not true.

 _"H-H-Her..."_ The nurse goes limp.

You couldn't count much before nausea overwhelmed your stomach and you mixed some green into the pool of red, but if you had to guess, Myers has slaughtered four or five innocent people, not even counting the four ambulance workers, and it's all your fault. This animal, this personification of evil and sadism, followed _you_ here. As you sob over the victims of Myers' bloodbath, the stench of a strong alcohol is mixed into the aroma, while a heavy breathing creeps up your shoulder and into your ear. You don't even need to look. You sprint down the hallway with tears cooking in your ducts, pushing your legs, your heart, and your lungs to their absolute limits. You turn the corner and hear hefty splashes behind you as Myers wades through puddles of gore in her pursuit. 

In the next hallway, your lighter picks up a peek of even more corpses painting the floor, the walls, the goddamn ceiling. You slip on one of the countless blood puddles in your wild chase through the blood-splattered, gloomy halls of Haddonfield Hospital and smack straight into the ground. Of all of the elaborate injuries you've endured tonight, a simple trip onto a hard floor might just turn out to be the worst. Your painkillers give up on your sorry ass and an awful, dull agony starts gnawing away at your body, worst in the legs. You're back to square one. Disabled from the waist down, agonized and exhausted all over, and at the mercy of Evil on Two Legs. Did you die as you babysat Billy, and are you now in Hell, trapped in an infinite loop of getting cornered and violated by a demon? Myers, dropping the disguise and back in her Boogeyman costume, curiously tilts her head at you, almost like she's pleasantly surprised you still have enough strength to try and resist her. Before you lose all hope, you realize she's still drenched with rubbing alcohol, even with the quick costume change. You turn over and try to drag yourself over to your lighter, but five fingertips bury themselves into your bare ass-cheeks and rake you right back into her utmost control. Fuck this gown. 

She begins her forth session of torture by reddening your buttocks more and more with every spank she dishes out. You no longer have any morphine to retreat from the pain to. You have to grin and bare as the back of your pelvis is lit aflame by two superhuman palms drumming on it. She pops two fingers up in between your crimson cheeks and another two in your mouth, forcing you to suck on them as you're fingered. You try to spit the two digits out your mouth but then a hard fist crashes down onto the back of your thigh, worsening your fractured femur and making you as submissive as possible through the power of pain alone. At this point, you're just a soulless, limp sex doll Myers is hellbent on humping the shit out of. She flips you over and presses your shins against her shoulders, getting leverage by firmly enveloping the top third of your thighs with the choke of her two hands. The agony strangling your lower body only gets worse and worse with every muscle that's being moved and the full-body throb gets so bad, your vision is eclipsed with red. It's like your senses are cowering from the torment and retracting into the bowels of your brain. Your pain receptors are in peak condition, though, that's for sure. She grinds the head of your cock up against the slit of her vagina before devouring it with her fat glistening lips and thrusting ravenously. 

You can't even get any pleasure out of it at this point. All of the trauma you've endured tonight has come crashing into you like a train. Head slammed against the fireplace mantle, skin littered with gashes from the blade of a butcher's knife, waterboarded by the overflows of Myers' superhuman vagina, nose broken after getting buried in an answering machine, flung out a second-story window and straight onto the hard ground below to be greeted by a couple of fractured leg bones, nuts and bubble butt squeezed and spanked until they're bigger and redder than dodgeballs, and flailed around the cluttered interior of an ambulance as it tumbles down a hill. All in the span of a single hour. All coming at you like a typhoon of hellfire. Meanwhile, Myers is having the time of her life. 

She's fucking you so hard your brain is starting to rattle around in the confines of your skull, as if she's shaking you like a baby. Shit, Myers is fucking you so hard even _she_ finally breaks her perpetual silence to densely pant like a wild animal. There's still no moans or gasps, just strained, lustful, heavy breaths escaping her windpipe before finally reaching a climax that she lets out onto your belly, absolutely soaking it in an inhuman amount of pussy juice like waves hitting the shore. When the police find your body, they're gonna assume you were chased through a hurricane or something. You notice how Myers is breathless. Finally, after getting her eye gouged out, chest pumped with lead, and body thrashed around in an ambulance crash, Myers has tired. She no longer has enough strength to even train her eyes on yours like she usually does, instead lazily letting her stare hang at your abs, glistening in the lubricant of her insides, as she tries to regain her composure. Now's your chance. But something's missing. If you fuck this up, God knows how Myers will respond. You have to make this count, you need one final piece to the puzzle. **_Hurry_** , before she catches her breath! 

Doing the only thing you have the energy to do, you rip her mask clean off her face, finally revealing the psychotic bitch that's ruined your life. It's...a completely normal-looking woman. No horrific deformities that personifies the kind of human she isn't, aside from the scraps of damage you've inflicted upon her, just a girl so generic-looking she's utterly indescribable. Myers freezes up. It's as if unmasking stripped her of her immortal killing machine prowess down to nothing but another pitiful, vulnerable human, just like you. She's powerless. She scrambles off of you and drops everything to hurriedly slip her head back into the colorless piece of rubber to hide her face with. With Myers finally distracted for a few brief seconds, you use this window of opportunity to swipe up the lighter after slithering over to it, flick it to life with the summoning of a single flame, and chuck it at her. When it and her coat of ethanol meet, the flame instantly diffuses into hundreds. Myers becomes the wick of a lit candle and devolves into a monsoon of orange swirls. She acts completely unaffected by the blaze, but similar to how she tried and failed at tanking through your gunfire, her stroll crumbles after a few steps and the fiery brute collapses like a statue being blown to dust by the wind. 

She's dead. Her cells are being scorched from existence. In a few minutes, she will be nothing but a pile of ashes, and you don't care how durable she is, you wish her good luck terrorizing you as a pile of ashes. You flatly lay on the floor. Your bare backside would be freezing if the tiles of the hospital ground weren't splattered in the lukewarm blood of the countless surrounding corpses of the poor hospital staff, whilst the flesh of a monster smolders a mere few feet away from you. You glance at the clock right as the hands land on 12:00 AM. 

October the 31st is over. Halloween is over. The curse of Michelle Myers, evil itself taking The Shape of a human... is over.  



End file.
